Perspective
by brynerose
Summary: Life is a series of highs and lows-or at least it is for TJ Hammond. An juxtaposition of two pivotal moments in his life, how they are similar, but also how they turn out to be quite different. Timeline fudged slightly, but not AU. Rated for minor language, in-depth depth descriptions of drug use/effects and suicidal ideation. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_It was so easy. Already woozy from the alcohol, all he had to was sit there. He could have done without the headache and nausea, like a preemptive hangover, once he had cried himself out. Then the effects slowly started to melt away. A small part of the back of his mind said this wasn't right, wasn't normal. Maybe he should go back inside the house. But here he was so…comfortable. So undisturbed. His heart fluttered like mad in his chest, yet the rest of his body seemed to react in slow motion. From here he couldn't feel the pain anymore, the heartache, hell, even the headache. Was that just a few minutes ago, or a lifetime? He didn't care anymore…_

 _Everything kind of mashed together, blending in and out of nothingness. A muffled, faraway voice calling out. Splashes of color, maybe red? It was hard to tell. Cold sensations. Feeling as if a great weight pressed on his chest. His whole world shaking, if it was possible for darkness to do that. Occasional recognition of other presences around him, although he couldn't quite reach them, and he didn't want to. He just wanted to be done._

 _His first concrete sensation was of a long shape pressing onto his face. He blurrily recognized it as an oxygen mask, and recognized the people who crowded in almost immediately. What he didn't remember was what had led up to this point, at least at first. Everyone was distraught, even tearful. He had been found just in time. He quickly discovered that he didn't share their fear, or their relief that he had survived. But they weren't going to let him go. In fact, they watched him closely, concerned that he might try something again. They were determined to figure him out, solve this latest complication in their lives. All for his sake, of course, but he was the source of all the trouble, as usual. Sure, he would play along, give them what they wanted. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. And maybe it was worth it a little bit to keep going, he just wasn't going to hold his breath for it to last._

 _Pure elation. That's what he felt. Free flowing, life giving energy coursing through him. He couldn't care less about the stinging pain in his face; the bubbling happiness quickly washed that away. Keep moving, keep going, faster and faster with each new rush. Everything else dissolved away. A wet sensation came away on his hand between passes at one point, a smear of red in the swirling kaleidoscope. Nothing to worry about. He was just going to float away in this beautiful existence. The harsh sound that accompanied his laboring chest faded. At some point he lost track of which way was up, whether his limbs moved as he wanted them to or of their own accord, the difference between objects, between light and dark. He lost sense of anything at all…_

TJ very groggily came to. At first his vision didn't seem to want to work properly. Then there was the fact that he recognized nothing around him—not the room, the sounds or smells, the time of day. Well, almost nothing. When he really concentrated, his eyes focused beyond a plastic partition to his left, on a sleeping woman with red hair and a blazer draped over her. The sight made him smile ever so slightly.

Now if he could just get his dry throat to work to work. "…Mom…"

Elaine Barrish startled a bit at the sudden sound, however faint. As soon as she realized TJ was looking back at her, she practically melted. "Oh, sweetie."

TJ started to pick up on more of his immediate surroundings, though none of it made sense. He wore a loose, scratchy blue gown. There was an IV attached to his left arm, a cuff and bracelet on his right. An oxygen tube stretched across his face, other wires ran here and there. How he ended up this way was a huge blank. "Where…where am I…?"

"Oh…you're at the hospital," his mother tried to say as gently as possible. TJ still didn't remember, but her tone and the look on her face were very familiar. He must have screwed up, big time.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry…" Anxiety bubbled up, and with it a dull pain in his chest as he slowly connected what dots he could. How could things have gotten so out of hand? "I didn't mean for this to happen…I wasn't…I wasn't trying to hurt myself…" Not that any part of this situation backed up his claim. He still wasn't thinking clearly; whatever was in the IV muddled everything. Somehow he _had_ to get her to believe him. To get _himself_ to believe it.

His mom jumped up as he grew more agitated. "Don't worry about any of that. Shh, go back to sleep." She brushed his forehead with a cool hand. He hadn't noticed how warm he felt. Anyway, the meds were pulling him under again. Sweet, involuntary relaxation mixed with that comforting touch began to lull him away.

"It's all going to be okay," she crooned.

"'M sorry…"

The next time he was aware, sunlight beamed through the window, and his dad, former President Bud Hammond, sat on one side while TJ's twin brother Douglas kept watch on the opposite side. The latter hurriedly put down his phone when he noticed TJ stirring.

"Hey bro, how're you feeling? Mom said you opened your eyes for a bit last night." Douglas uncharacteristically clung to TJ's hand.

"You gotta believe me, I wasn't trying to go that far. I didn't… _plan_ anything, and it wasn't like an impulse thing either. It was just such a rough day, and things were moving so fast…" croaked TJ. Douglas hushed him, though not angrily.

"We'll take it one step at a time, okay? The important thing is we caught it before it was too late."

TJ took a good look around the room for the first time. Not an ICU, or at least didn't look like one. He still had the IV and oxygen, but nothing more drastic. The little tubes reminded him how sore his nose was. "So how long was I…?"

"About 36 hours now, I reckon," their dad piped up. The man looked like he hadn't slept at all. "I decided at the last minute to hell with everything, I wanted to see your moment of triumph, and for once not appear like I was trying to be your age. When I saw Gunner downstairs without you—"

"Aw man, Gunner—what happened with him?"

"We made sure he got where he needed to be. Anyway, it gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. Sam and I found you up in the private lounge, already unconscious." Bud's voice cracked a bit.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean…" Tears of his own welled up in TJ's eyes before he could stop them. "You were right, the whole thing was a bad idea from the start! I never should've…why did I think I could…I _always_ —"

Douglas grabbed TJ's arm firmly. "Hey! You don't need to beat yourself up about this, it was an accident! I lent you the money because I believed what you said, that you just needed the right chance. I thought maybe it really would help if you had something you could be proud of, something we could be proud for you."

"Yeah, and look how far I got—"

"You're an addict, TJ. Maybe sometimes we're too hard on you about it. We're so busy watching out for warning signs and triggers and avoiding anything that could enable you—though you have to admit that sometimes we've had a right to worry—that we don't even really see what kind of impact that has. We're not always right, and you weren't necessarily wrong to call us out on it."

The pain was beginning to surface in TJ's chest once more, between his current circumstances and not wanting to cry in front of his dad and brother. He was losing that battle, to boot. Both men were trying to get him to calm down. Behind their voices, he could hear the heart monitor reaching an insistent pitch. It was too much going on. He didn't know if anxiety was making it feel harder to breathe, or if he was actually beginning to have trouble.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" was all he could repeat.

A knock on the door preceded the arrival of a doctor, a woman at most only a few years older than TJ and Douglas, tailored white coat covering her scrubs. "Good morning, I see things have gotten much livelier in here. I had the nurse set to page me as soon as you were awake, just so we could check in with you. Thomas, is that right?"

"TJ's fine," replied TJ, trying to pull himself together.

"TJ it is, then. I'm Dr. Walsh. We reduced the sedative you were given last night so you could start waking up without trouble, but it looks like things might be overwhelming you a bit. Try to take some slow, deep breaths for me, okay? Would you like me to give you something?"

"I-I don't know if I can…it's been a lot to process…"

"We can just do a minimal dose, not enough to send you right back to sleep, just to help you relax. Do you remember what happened?"

What little composure TJ had was quickly crumbling. Everything seemed to be spinning out of control. Plus he didn't like the idea of exchanging one drug for another, even if it would help.

"We were talking about it, yes," Bud said quietly. "We're sorry if that got him worked up."

"His system is still trying to rid itself of the cocaine. Given how he came in, I'd rather not stress his heart or circulation too quickly," explained Dr. Walsh. She stuck her head outside, speaking low to someone close by, and then turned back to them. "We'll grab a quick blood draw to retest and see where things are before giving him the sedative. As long as we take it slow, however, and don't see any complications, he should be okay to go home I'd say tomorrow morning."

"Thank you," nodded Bud.

Douglas leaned close to TJ. "Mom's got her guest room ready for you once you're discharged. We'll figure everything out from there. Just take it easy for now, okay?"

Shakily, TJ tried to nod that he understood. A nurse slipped in with a tray of supplies just in time for Dr. Walsh to finish washing and gloving her hands. TJ flinched as the fresh needle went into his right elbow. She took one vial and a few little sticks, which the nurse carried away while Dr. Walsh taped gauze to the puncture and moved on to a small syringe. This was scanned, followed by a scan of his ID bracelet barcode.

"This should help you feel much better."

The knots in TJ's muscles magically unwound as soon as she pushed the plunger into his IV. His breathing steadied. The heart monitor worked its way back down. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Anything else we can do for you at the moment?"

"Is it possible to get him something plain to eat?" asked Bud. "He hasn't had anything substantial since the day before last. His mother wanted to make sure that was rectified when he woke up."

"Of course, I'll have the nurse's station call down for something." Dr. Walsh gave them all a polite nod, and exited.

Douglas settled down into his chair again. "How's that working for you?"

"If you mean do I feel high all over again, I don't think it's quite the same. At least I don't feel like my chest is about to snap like a rubber band," TJ shot back wryly.

"That wasn't what I meant, for the record, but I'll take the humor as a positive sign," chuckled Douglas.

The room lapsed into silence, aside from the monitor. TJ couldn't remember the last time he simply felt _content_. Part of it was the meds talking, no doubt, and yet he didn't mind just taking in the moment. Douglas pulling his phone out, their dad chiding him for being unable to take a 30 minute break from work. Even their mom, as unavoidably demanding as her job often was, taking time before to sit vigil in order to be there for him. He dimly recalled that encounter now.

"I guess I haven't really said thank you," he finally voiced out loud. Both his dad and brother stopped what they were doing to look at him. TJ cleared his throat roughly. "I mean, none of us have been perfect in this family, certainly not me. No family is. But you guys have all stuck around. I'm really grateful for that."

"Anne and Nana have been getting things ready for you at Mom's, too," Douglas added.

"That's what family's for, son," replied Bud, passing him one of those plastic hospital cups full of water, which TJ gladly took.

"And I really am sorry that things blew up like this. I want…I want to make it right. I don't want to give up on beating this thing."

"Then we'll be there for you," said Douglas. "After all, I want you to be able to pay me back, right? When you're ready, of course."

TJ cracked a smile and nodded. Their dad's face was more sober.

"It's going to be hard, we all realize that. We're all going to have to keep working on believing we can get to the other side of this someday, hopefully soon."

Another knock on the door grabbed their attention. The nurse returned with a tray in hand. "They were switching over to lunch, but had enough batter left to make a few small pancakes. Just something to get started with. There are also peaches and a Gatorade. The sooner we start getting your system back into balance, the better you'll feel when you leave. Let yourself take the time you need, though. And let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," they chorused. Douglas swung the rolling table over so TJ could reach.


	2. Chapter 2

**More of a post-scene, which I didn't initially plan on. It felt like Douglas didn't get as much of a chance to be there or have an opinion/reaction to the situation (after expressing that he wanted to be there), so here's his turn. Also, medical protocol might not be entirely accurate, but there was a conversation I needed to have happen.**

* * *

It was oddly peaceful sitting in the quiet hospital room, especially given everything that was going on in the outside world. Threats of disaster, diplomatic gymnastics, the never-ending campaign cycle, webs of secrecy, alliances, and double-crosses. Douglas had his laptop out, a compromise to let him stay with TJ a little longer without completely neglecting work. Besides, this served the double purpose of allowing him to delay facing anyone meaningful after his drunken slipup on the plane to San Diego. Apparently the Hammond destiny was to screw up somehow, somewhere along the way. Bud had left a couple hours ago to take care of a few calls and other business, giving Douglas some much-needed quiet.

TJ had dropped off into a nap not long after the nurse collected his food tray. The doctor had also okayed taking him off the oxygen cannula, although Douglas thought his twin brother looked a little pale and drawn. Maybe it was just the late afternoon shadows mixed with not getting to shave for a couple of days. Then again, he couldn't decide if TJ shivered with the occasional chill. Curled up on one side, the sight reminded him of how TJ used to sleep when they were little.

It was funny, really; despite all the bravado about being three minutes older, TJ had always been the more vulnerable one, and Douglas naturally fell into the protective role. Being gay had nothing to do with it, or at least that was Douglas' opinion. It was simply part of who TJ was, a sensitive, deeply caring individual. The pressure of a lifelong spotlight certainly didn't help.

Speaking of protective instinct, an intangible change within the room drew Douglas' attention. He looked up in time to see TJ stir, groaning. It didn't seem like he was just waking up, however. Douglas put his computer aside, and went over to the bed. "You okay, sleeping beauty?"

"Unnh, m' stomach…think I might…" His face went distinctly white. Douglas whipped around for the standard little basins hospital rooms always had, returning just as TJ began to retch. They stayed like that for an awkward minute or so. Enough time had passed that more bile than food came up, not for lack of trying on his stomach's part. At last, the heaving subsided. Douglas hit the nurse call button, and handed TJ a tissue to wipe his mouth.

A motherly woman in scrubs entered the room. "Everything okay?"

"Well, lunch might not have gone over as well as we thought," Douglas explained. "Could that be the meds, or putting too much on an empty stomach?"

"Perhaps a little of both." The nurse took over, grabbing a fresh cup of water and helping TJ sit up a little so he could rinse. Then she went to dispose of the lot. "Do you feel like you'd rather be in the bathroom, or are you okay in bed?"

TJ shook his head. He trembled slightly from the sudden reflex, his face clammy. "It just hit me out of nowhere. I was dead asleep before that."

"Well, if you do feel like you need to move, I'd prefer you let myself or your brother know. You might still be a little unsteady going that far on your own. If you'd like, I can ask the doctor to sign off on something keep your stomach more settled. It just dissolves under your tongue, so you don't have to swallow anything. And I know it might not sound appealing, but something like Gatorade often helps more than water when you're sick."

"Maybe."

The nurse turned to Douglas. "Follow me, I can hand the Gatorade off to you while I make that call." She gave him a pointed look, one TJ wouldn't be able to see from his angle. Douglas did as instructed.

"What's wrong?" he whispered as soon as they were out of the room.

"Nothing, as this case goes, that's why I wanted a moment to talk." The nurse led him over to a supply station with easy-grab options like Jell-O cups and certain drinks. "I'm a nurse practitioner, not a doctor, so I won't pretend that I have the final word on medical advice. And I'm sure your family has heard this all before, if you'll forgive my bluntness. We're reaching the point in the timeline where the other side of substance usage begins to show up. Incidents like the one that just occurred."

"Withdrawal," Douglas finished for her.

"It's not cause in his case to keep him here longer, though some kind of facility is usually recommended. Symptoms can continue for weeks, even months when someone has a history of dependency. I just wanted you to be prepared if it seems like he's not immediately 'better' when he comes home, if you know what I mean."

"We've all got a long road ahead of us, and yeah, we've been down it before. Sometimes it's like you just can't catch enough of a break. But we have to keep trying, you know?"

The nurse gave him a smile, handed him the drink, and patted his shoulder. "Go, take care of him."

Douglas walked back to his brother's room. TJ, still pale but perhaps less shaky, was watching for him.

"She give you the what-to-expect-with-a-drug-addict talk?" he quipped, fidgeting with the edge of his blanket.

"And a lollipop for you, as long as you're a good boy." Douglas waved the Gatorade, then set it on the rolling table. "This is part of why Dad said it was going to be hard. It's going to downright suck sometimes. But we deal with it all because we want to see you get better."

"Yeah, speaking of sucky moments, you with the fearless ninja moves there. I don't think I was even fully awake yet when it happened." TJ carefully swallowed at the memory. He threw a dubious glance at the bottle in front of him.

"Maybe you can stick to water just until they get you those meds."

"Yes, _Mom_. At least admit that was embarrassing as hell that it happened in the first place."

"Dude, remember that time Nana let us get ice cream right before leaving on a diplomatic trip to France? I begged Mom not to leave me alone in the bathroom on Air Force One? That must have been half the flight, I think we were thirteen."

"Forgive me if I don't want to reminisce over old up-chuck stories," complained TJ, though he was smiling nonetheless.

"Okay, bad choice. How about the first time—my actual first attempt—to ask a girl to a dance in middle school? Some wingnut entertainment photographer got wind of it somehow, and hid out to catch it, only for her to turn me down!"

"Didn't she spray you in the face with a water bottle or something?"

"It was a bottle of Jungle Juice, and she dumped it on my head! Plus we had those white shirts for the school uniform, I don't think the stain ever came out."

TJ put on his infamous puppy eyes. "I might have had something to do with that…"

"Wait, the reason she turned me down?"

"More like…why someone caught it on camera…"

Douglas stared at him. "Mom and Dad were pissed about that for _weeks_!"

"Why do you think I kept it a secret?!" TJ exclaimed. "And in my defense, I was hoping she would say yes, so I could heckle you about crushing on her. Instead I felt like shit the whole time, and couldn't tell anyone why."

"God, here I am trying to make _you_ feel better by sharing times when I felt humiliated, and it turns out you were the culprit all along!" They both laughed.

"Well, keep this up and you may get your payback. Queasy stomach and impromptu ab workout don't get along very well together."

"Very tempting, but I'm not sure I can be that heartless," sighed Douglas, settling down. Then a knock on the door shut him up completely, but it was just the nurse with a plastic pill cup.

"Ah, relief is on the way!" TJ crowed.

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "You're in much better spirits."

"Comes with the in-room entertainment."

"Well, the doctor said to start with one, but there's a second tablet here if you feel you need it. Remember, it stays under your tongue until it dissolves." She scanned his ID bracelet.

"Thank you," he told her sincerely as he followed instructions.

"What's the party in here?"

They all turned. Elaine stood in the ajar door, trying to size up the situation. Douglas walked over to welcome her in.

"Just getting back in the swing of things. He might've bitten off more than he could chew, as it were, with the food earlier. It's taken care of."

"I'll get out of your hair," said the nurse. Elaine thanked her as she left, and turned her attention to the boys, both of whom were attempting to keep straight faces.

"I take it from the amount of guilt you think you're hiding that you're feeling better, TJ," she said by way of greeting.

TJ ducked his head sheepishly. "Getting there, yeah."

Their mother let the stern-parent act go, dropping her bag and jacket and gently wrapping her arms around him. "That's what matters. Have you been warm enough? Feeling more rested? It you're this alert they've probably taken you off the sedative by now—"

" _Mom_."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. You know how moms get." She straightened up, but kept her seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm afraid I'm going to need you back at the office with me in a little while, Douglas. For now, however, I snagged an hour for dinner so I could spend a little time with both of my boys, not working."

"As long as you're not planning on bringing food in here, not yet," said TJ. He and Douglas both broke into grins again.

* * *

 **Anybody else just want to hug TJ through the whole series? Actually, that seems to be a trend with Sebastian Stan's characters...tortured souls that make you want to somehow magic the pain away. This is where my brain has been stuck for a week. If I didn't need my inner muse for other projects, I would murder it right now...**


End file.
